Coming up rosey

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On my kitchen counter sits a Mason jar. In this jar you will currently find the bridal bouquet from a wedding that I recently attended; how I wound up with the bouquet is beyond me. If there is anything at a wedding that I hate more than the unity candle, it is the bouquet toss – at first mention of it, you will find me switching my ring to my left hand and walking toward the bar for another glass of wine, face aloof and firmly unsociable. Nevertheless, last weekend I found myself getting out of my car and walking toward my house at 2am with a gorgeous bunch of flowers in hand. The girl who actually caught the bouquet must have forgotten them in my freshly bumper-stickered vehicle.

Not that I’m complaining. The flowers are quite lovely, actually. Multi-colored roses that could only have been genetically engineered, they are complicated shades of pink, orange, and purple. And when is a girl going to refuse roses? The same day that Ann Coulter joins the Dixie Chicks, that’s when.

But seeing these roses in their contrived existence reminded me of a late-night talk show that I recently caught featuring supermodel Heidi Klum. She told Jay Leno that a botanist in her homeland of Germany had recently designed a rose specifically for her; never mind that she has yet to plant it in her California yard – those pesky border patrol laws keep the Heidi Klum Rose imprisoned in Deutschland.

Eventually curiosity got the best of me, and I looked up the Heidi Klum blossom. I mean, what does a flower patented exclusively for a supermodel look like? It would have to be glorious, magnificent, divine, right? I found that it was small, and purple, and kind of bushy. Apparently, its real selling point is the fragrance, an “overpowering scent” according to some. But really, the best quote regarding the Klum bloom came from the fashionista herself: “I hope all fans of gardening like the Heidi Klum Rose so that it will still bloom when my personal flowering time is over.”

Well, my pretties, when MY “personal flowering time” is over, there will not be an Annie Parsons Petunia to carry on my grand legacy of winsome appeal. My image may not be perfect. I might not inspire men to write sonnets or carve sculptures or paint masterpieces or compose ballads or engineer roses. No, there will never be a Hootenannie blossom to carry on my memory.

But hot damn, will there ever be LEGENDS.

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11 Comments

  1. MJ on August 21, 2007 at 3:55 PM

    I love it when you blog. Seriously, I do.

  2. bec on August 21, 2007 at 5:08 PM

    peer pressure has finally gotten the best of me. behold, my blog!

    ps: there is a mall called ‘legends’ here. and it always kind of makes me laugh.

  3. I'm Ashlee. on August 21, 2007 at 10:48 PM

    You write well. Thanks for singing at the Inn tonight. We’ll be in need of a solid singer once school rolls around…

  4. I'm Ashlee. on August 21, 2007 at 10:48 PM

    You write well. Thanks for singing at the Inn tonight. We’ll be in need of a solid singer once school rolls around…

  5. I'm Ashlee. on August 22, 2007 at 8:05 PM

    I’m not sure about worship next year–Jon is leading it, and I don’t know what his plans are. I’d like to, though.

    You sat right behind me when the band took a seat! ;) See you around!

  6. I'm Ashlee. on August 22, 2007 at 8:05 PM

    I’m not sure about worship next year–Jon is leading it, and I don’t know what his plans are. I’d like to, though.

    You sat right behind me when the band took a seat! ;) See you around!

  7. Jeremy Parsons on August 22, 2007 at 8:08 PM

    Annie, you’re legendary already. If I was to invent a flower for you, it would smell like a rose dipped in chocolate.

    Miss you.

  8. Spencer (the fencer) on August 22, 2007 at 10:37 PM

    I’m a blog sheep. behh. behh.

  9. MJ on August 23, 2007 at 12:22 PM

    oh and speaking of rosey, did you see my flowers?? check out my blog..

  10. Miranda on August 23, 2007 at 4:03 PM

    This by far is my favorite blog. It is deeply articulate, a story told like only a down-home Southern songbird could tell and fits me like my favorite get-it-done jeans.

    I love you and adore you.

    Miranda

  11. Sarah on September 1, 2007 at 3:48 PM

    Incidentally, the Maria Shriver rose smells AMAZING. But it always sort of fills me with confusion when I make the inevitable association with Arnold…

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